‘Bus be hanged,’ Lena said suddenly. ‘Seebold, Seebold.’

He came from behind the carousel with a spanner in his hand. ‘What’s up?’

‘My father is dangerously ill,’ Lena said. ‘Can I borrow your lorry to drive us to the hospital?’

Milly’s eyes grew wide. She had no idea Lena could drive.

‘If he’s that bad,’ said Seebold, ‘you be in no fit state to drive. Give me two seconds and I’ll take you.’

He wasn’t gone long, but Milly was so anxious that it seemed like a lifetime. Once they had set off, Milly couldn’t stop herself glancing at him as he drove the lorry. She loved his dark curly hair. He was like a big kid. One tendril fell across his forehead in an attractive way and his face was sun-kissed . . . He had turned his head slightly and now he was looking at her. Milly looked away quickly, but a moment later she was stealing another glance at him. She watched him as they went around corners, his strong arms turning the wheel, his muscular chest straining his shirt, the smell of him warm and manly. Part of her felt ashamed. She shouldn’t be thinking this way about someone else when her father was so ill, but being in such close proximity with Seebold was . . . intoxicating.

‘There you are, duchess,’ he said as he helped her down from the lorry. ‘I ’ope it’s not as bad as you think.’

Milly felt her face heating up. She turned to go and it was then that she spotted Dixon sitting in the car near the hospital lawns. She tugged at her sister’s arm.

‘My mother is already here,’ she whispered. ‘You’d better not let her know who you are.’

Lena looked stricken. ‘What are you saying?’ she challenged. ‘He’s my father too.’

‘I know, I know,’ Milly said desperately, ‘but you don’t understand. My mother can be vindictive, and I feel sure that if she finds out who you are, she’ll tell the hospital authorities not to let you in.’

‘But she’s got no right . . .’ Lena protested.

‘I know, but I promise you, that’s exactly the sort of thing she will do.’

‘We’ll see about that!’ Lena retorted angrily.

‘She might be right,’ said Seebold, chipping in.

Lena was furious. ‘Who asked for your opinion?’

Seebold held his hands up in mock surrender. ‘You’re not thinking straight, girl,’ he said. ‘If she does what Milly says she will, you won’t never see your father, will you. Hang on for a bit until the old lady’s gone and then you can stay as long as you like.’

Frustrated as she was, Lena saw the sense of it. Milly could have kissed him.

When they arrived outside Charles’s room, they could hear Agatha’s angry voice. ‘No, Charles, absolutely not!’

There was a sound of a scraping chair, so Milly nudged Lena towards a small recess in the corridor.

‘We need the house for Pearl’s engagement party,’ Agatha was saying. ‘This is to be a happy occasion. I can’t have ambulances and nurses littering up the place. You must understand that.’

Charles made a reply, but Milly couldn’t hear what he was saying.

‘But we need the east wing for the guests, Charles.’ Milly heard the click of her mother’s heels on the tiled floor. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s just not possible. You must see that.’

Charles began coughing again.

‘Anyway,’ said Agatha, ‘must dash. Get well soon. Bye.’

A second later, she almost bumped into Milly in the doorway. ‘Talk some sense into your father, will you?’ she said confidentially as she pulled on her white gloves. ‘The man’s an idiot.’ And with that she swept away.

As soon as her mother had gone, Milly beckoned Lena. When the two girls entered his room, Charles was very distressed. ‘Please don’t leave me to die here,’ he gasped. ‘I want to go home.’

Chapter 15

Agatha and Pearl were in the throes of packing. Most of Pearl’s best dresses were in the London flat, but there were quite a few things she wanted with her – like her pale blue Jeanne Lanvin cotton and silk evening dress, and her Schiaparelli jacket with the metallic decoration down the front and on the waistline.

The Coco Chanel dress she had worn at the party last night was damaged. It had ripped at the hem when she and Freddie had been walking in the rose garden. They hadn’t been doing anything wrong but, when she’d heard Lady Verity calling, she’d panicked, and somehow or other her dress had got caught on a particularly thorny rose bush. It was a shame, but she consoled herself that she had already worn it twice.

After breakfast, Pearl commandeered the maid who was polishing silver in the dining room, and set about laying her things on the bed ready for her to pack. Pearl surveyed her wardrobe. Everything looked perfect but she was badly in need of a blue shawl. Of course, there was no time to buy one, but she vaguely remembered that her sister had one in her room. It was an age since she’d seen it and perhaps her memory was hazy, but she thought it might be just what she needed.

Halfway through the morning, her mother set off for the hospital. ‘Do you want to come, dear?’

Pearl frowned. ‘Whatever for?’

‘To see your father.’

Pearl stared in disbelief. ‘Mother, you know how I hate hospitals.’ She handed Elsie another blouse to fold. ‘Anyway, I have to get all this done if we’re to be on our way by lunch time.’

As soon as her mother was gone, Pearl hurried to Milly’s room. She’d heard Mrs Cunningham telling her mother that Milly had caught the bus into Worthing some time ago, so she knew she wouldn’t be back any time soon.

The hideous frock her sister had worn last night was draped across a chair. How could she bring herself to wear such a ghastly thing? Honestly, she had no dress sense at all. Poor Mother. Getting such an old-fashioned frump ready for her coming-out ball would be an uphill job.

Pearl rummaged carelessly through the drawers but couldn’t find the shawl. She stood in the middle of the room and looked around. The only place she hadn’t looked was in the old chest of drawers where Milly kept her childhood toys. She wouldn’t have a shawl in there, would she? But for some reason Pearl was drawn to the bottom drawer. She pulled it out and reached inside. Right at the back she spotted a blue fringe. There it was! Pushing aside the teddies, a stuffed rabbit and a jack-in-the-box, she pulled it out. It was heavy. Something was wrapped inside. Pearl pulled the shawl and something fell to the floor with a clatter. She let out an involuntary squeal. It was a doll. Not just any doll, but it looked like the doll she had used that time when she and Milly had cursed that trollop in the cottage. Pearl stared down at it in disbelief. Surely it couldn’t be the same one? Yet it looked like it. But how on earth did it get here? Hadn’t she’d thrown it to the back of the log pile? And the eye . . . hadn’t she poked that out with her finger? She bent down and picked it up. It had been repaired; repaired and dressed up. A white rage filled her whole body. Of course, now that she was older she didn’t believe the curse could have done real damage, but back then she certainly did. Now it looked as if all those years ago her stupid sister had gone back to fetch the doll, despite her best efforts to get rid of her father’s tart and save their family. How dare she? How bloody dare she! For a second or two, Pearl was sorely tempted to smash it on the floor, or stamp on its face but, after a short pause, she thought better of it. Calmer now and breathing normally again, she reflected that the shawl would be useful for tonight and, as for the doll . . . She nodded as a triumphant smile moved across her face. The doll would be useful on another occasion. She would keep it.

Milly and Lena were on the horns of a dilemma. It tore both of them apart to see their father so broken in body, and it was even worse to see him broken in spirit. As they left his bedside, they asked to see the ward sister, who explained that Charles had lung cancer. It had eaten away most of his left lung and already his right lung was showing signs of damage.

‘Shouldn’t we encourage him to give up smoking?’ Milly asked.

‘There is little point,’ the sister said kindly. ‘Thirteen years of forty or more a day is a hard habit to kick. He hasn’t got long anyway. Let him continue to do what he enjoys.’

‘What will happen to him now?’ Lena sniffed into her handkerchief.

‘I’m afraid there is nothing more we can do. We suggested to your mother that you take him home, but she says it’s impossible. That being the case, we shall move him into a home for incurables.’

Both girls stared at her, aghast.

‘Is it possible for a relative to look after him?’ Milly said. She suspected that her mother didn’t want her husband at home simply because it wasn’t convenient. ‘I mean, what sort of care does he need?’

‘Just to be made comfortable,’ said the sister. ‘You’ll probably need a nurse to keep an eye on him, and someone to come in when the end is near, but other than that, all he needs is to be surrounded by his family and the people he loves.’

As they left the hospital and walked to where Seebold had parked the lorry, Lena was already weeping. Seebold jumped down and came to meet them. He helped Lena up into the cab. Ashen-faced, Milly climbed in after her and put her arm around her half-sister who sobbed on her shoulder.

‘I’m guessing it’s not good news,’ said Seebold, climbing into the driver’s seat.

‘Our father is dying,’ Milly said simply.

Seebold looked at her, sympathy written all over his face. ‘I’m sorry.’